


Festivities and Friendship

by dwarrowdams



Series: Eadgar Lives AU [4]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Friendship, Gen, dear Lord I hope I didn't fuck up anyone's character's names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:14:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27104797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwarrowdams/pseuds/dwarrowdams
Summary: Eadgyd and Eadgar attend the Gathering of the Five Armies and meet some new friends.
Series: Eadgar Lives AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913467
Kudos: 1





	Festivities and Friendship

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my goodness, I didn't mean to go so long without posting this, but in the midst of Tolkientober and general life things, it totally slipped my mind.
> 
> Anyways, this is where the Ead-twins (as I've begun referring to them) join the DnD party! I've tweaked events a little bit (there were originally more events and another character [Dyri] joined the party on the same day, but I've glossed over those details because the're not important for the purposes of this story). Canonically, some NPC won the archery contest, but I figured that Eadgar could win it here because a) he's a damn good archer and b) this is my way of making up for him dying in canon.
> 
> Eadgyd and Eadgar are 30 at the time of this fic.
> 
> (For anyone from the campaign reading this: I did my best to keep most of the details correct, but also there's only so much scrolling through the chat log that one person can do.)

Eadgar hadn’t been to the Gathering of Five Armies before, but was glad that he’d been able to go this year. It was his sister Frida’s first time setting forth on an adventure and, as he and Eadgyd had promised years ago, they went with her. Frida’s hope and optimism made traveling seem easy, even when Eadgar’s body said otherwise, and they’d arrived in Dale slightly ahead of schedule: just in time for Eadgar to join the archery competition. He’d been utterly focused through the whole ordeal: so much that he was surprised when he heard his own name announced as the winner.

He grinned to the crowd, waving at them briefly before slipping away to find Eadgyd, who was cheering loudly enough for at least five people.

“Congratulations, brother,” Eadgyd said, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Thank my spectacles,” Eadgar said. “I doubt I’d have hit the center without them.”

“Your spectacles aren’t the ones that spent hours practicing,” Eadgyd reminded him. “Besides, it’s not as if you’d credit my left arm when I manage to hit something with my axe.”

Eadgar shrugged. “I suppose you’re right,” he replied.

“Of course I am,” Eadgyd said. “Older sisters always are.”

“By two bloody hours,” Eadgar muttered. “But you won’t let me forget it, will you?”

“Never,” Eadgyd said as she wrapped him in a one-armed hug.

An announcer interrupted their playful rivalry to announce that it was time for the mock battle.

Eadgyd stepped away from him and readied her axe. “I take it you won’t be joining,” she said.

Eadgar chuckled, hoping that it would hide his mounting anxiety. “Not even if we all fought with wooden swords,” he said.

He’d never been skilled in melee combat, but a particularly nasty battle that had damaged his knees and cost Eadgyd her left forearm had led him to vow that he would only take up his sword when there was no other option. He still carried it at his side, but hadn’t removed it from its sheath since that day (save to polish it every so often).

Besides, it was more fun to watch Eadgyd fight. She’d needed to adapt to fighting with only one full arm—and later, to using her prosthetic to balance and swing her greataxe—but she still fought as fiercely as ever.

Eadgyd sat on the sidelines, surveying the group. Eadgyd was easy to spot: she cut an imposing figure with her greataxe and prosthetic. She’d joined with the humans of Dale and was receiving several suspicious looks. Fortunately, the Captain of Dale interfered, saying something that caused some of the warriors to look chastised (although most still looked away from Eadgyd). The only one who seemed more curious than intimidated was a young man finely dressed—a nobleman, judging by his clothes and bearing, and one Eadgar thought he’d seen at the archery tournament. Eadgar was pleasantly surprised at the nobleman’s reaction to Eadgyd: he’d met his share of nobles who looked down their noses at everyone else and was glad to see one whose masculinity wasn’t threatened by a six-foot tall muscular woman with a metal arm and a greataxe.

The announcer called for the fight to begin and Eadgar leaned forward, focusing on his sister. She moved forward fiercely, her eyes fixed on the opposing fighters as she raised her axe. She sliced easily through the opponents until she reached Gerold: a large, muscular man that Eadgar recognized as a Beorning mercenary. He had a mean look to him, but Eadgyd wouldn’t go down easily. She and the nobleman from earlier focused on Gerold, who proved a tough enemy. It took a few hits, but eventually he began to buckle under their blows, falling almost to his knees. Eadgyd slashed her axe at him, knocking him back a great deal, but he retaliated with such force that Eadgyd stepped back, her time in the battle finished.

“Well done, Eadgyd!” Eadgar cried as his sister stepped aside.

The Captain of the Guard—a tall woman in plate armor—stepped forward and dealt the final blows, much to the excitement of the crowd. Eadgar cheered, yelling his sister’s name before he pulled himself to his feet, hoping that no one saw how he wobbled when he stood.

Eadgyd walked towards him, her face flushed with exertion and a small grin crossing her lips.

“You fought well, sister,” he said. “You and that young nobleman gave old Gerold quite a beating.”

Eadgyd nodded as she pushed her hair back from her face. “He’s very quick,” she said. “And not easily intimidated.”

“I noticed,” Eadgar said. “He was the only one who dared to get within six feet of you.”

“Good thing it was him,” Eadgyd replied. “I’m not sure any of those others could’ve dealt such a blow to Gerold. Some look as though they couldn’t hold their ground against a strong breeze.”

She paused, taking a sip from her water skin before emptying the rest over her head. “Ah, that’s better,” she said. “By the way, did you see Frida during the fight?”

Eadgar shook his head. “Not since before the archery tournament,” he said. “She’ll be all right, though—she knows to find us before leaving.”

Eadgyd nodded. “I just hope she doesn’t get into too much trouble,” she said. “Mother will have our heads if something bad happens to her.”

“She’ll take yours before she takes mine,” Eadgar said, barely hiding a smirk. “You’re the oldest, after all.”

“Damn you and your wit,” she muttered, trying and failing to conceal her own smile.

“It’s why they call me Eadgar the Sharp.”

“Perhaps they should call you Eadgar the Mouthy instead,” Eadgyd suggested. “It’s more precise.”

Before Eadgar could reply, a tall woman with red hair approached them. “I wanted to congratulate you on your victory,” she said to Eadgar. “You have a strong and steady arm.”

“Thank you,” Eadgar said, trying not to look too proud as he smiled. “I’d never be able to do it without my spectacles, though—my eyes are old before their time.”

The woman smiled. “Still, you shoot well. I am Holma, Daughter of Gundrid, and these are my traveling companions.”

She gestured to the others beside her: a young dwarf with a keen look in his eyes, an older dwarf with a wide-eyed Hobbit beside him, and the nobleman from earlier. “This is Hanar of Erebor; Friggir, son of Fugga and his daughter, Lottie Lavina Littlefoot; and Dyri, son of Galti.”

Some of the faces tugged at Eadgar’s memory. He didn’t know for sure—he’d been too focused on shooting to notice much else—but he thought that most of them had participated in the archery tournament.

“Galti, Galti…” Eadgar murmured, trying to remember where he’d heard the name before. “Oh—your father fought in the Battle of Five Armies, did he not?”

Dyri looked surprised, but nodded. “You must be a scholar to know such details,” he replied.

Eadgar shook his head. “Just a man who regrets not being there himself and knows too much of it as a result,” he said. “I’m Eadgar the Sharp—pleased to meet you.”

Dyri took his hand and shook it firmly. “And from where do you hail?” he asked.

“My sister Eadgyd and I—Eadgyd the Bold, that is—are Beornings. Our youngest sister wanted to start off her years of adventuring by attending the Festival, and Eadgyd and I hadn’t been before, so here we are.”

Holma nodded. “It’s a lively time of year,” she said. “My companions and I were just about to celebrate at the tavern. Would you care to join us?”

Eadgar looked at Eadgyd, and when she nodded, he turned back towards Holma.

“That sounds agreeable,” Eadgar said.

He and Eadgyd followed the rest of the group to the tavern, taking in the sites of Dale as they went. They all settled around a large table and were quickly approached by a server who asked what the table might want.

“Nothing for me, thank you,” Eadgar said to the server. He found that drinking sent his mind swirling back to that day on the battlefield and thus rarely indulged.

“Just water for me, please,” Eadgyd said.

The server nodded and took everyone else’s orders before leaving. Eadgar surveyed the tavern: it was beginning to fill up with people and was already quite loud. It wasn’t troublesome yet, but if he didn’t do anything to occupy himself, the combination of the noise and his anxiety would quickly become a problem.

His fingers twitched under the table as he looked around, searching for anything he could use to occupy them. His eyes landed on Eadgyd’s hair, which he’d braided last night at her request. It was only a little disheveled, but it was the only thing within reach that could ease his twitchy fingers. Of course, he could always ask someone else at the table if he could braid their hair, but Eadgar knew from experience that asking people he barely knew if he could braid their hair wasn’t a reliable way to make friends.

A nudge from Eadgyd snapped him out of his thoughts. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.

Eadgar blinked, realizing that he’d been eyeing Eadgyd’s braid for a while now. “Your hair’s a mess,” he said. “Let me fix it.”

Eadgyd arched an eyebrow, about to protest, but nodded after a moment. She knew as well as he that the braid could hold, but she also understood that he needed something to occupy his hands.

The older dwarf—Friggir, if Eadgar’s memory served—eyed Eadgyd’s prosthetic with admiration. “That’s some awfully fine craftsmanship,” he said. “Where did you get it?”

“The Dwarves of the Iron Hills,” Eadgyd said. “I never thought I’d have something like this, but unbeknownst to me, my family began putting money aside from the day I lost my arm in order to afford it.” 

“It cost an arm and a leg,” Eadgar said. “Fortunately, we already had the arm.”

The comment earned him a couple of laughs and several groans from the rest of the table: a reaction that Eadgar was accustomed to.

Holma smiled in amusement. “We’ve found someone whose sense of humor matches yours, Hanar,” she said.

The younger dwarf grinned. “About time,” he said. “It’s hard making all the good jokes.”

“Eadgar can certainly ease your burden,” Eadgyd said. “I’m not sure he knows how to be serious.”

Eadgar poked her teasingly. “Of course I know,” he said. “But there are too many serious people in the world. Perhaps if we laughed a little more, our troubles would be easier to bear.”

That sent the group into a pensive silence.

“See?” Eadgar said. “I can be serious.”

“Well done, brother,” Eadgyd said drily.

Before Eadgar could reply, the table’s food and drinks arrived and everyone began to indulge, chatting in between bites and sips. However, the young Hobbit who sat beside Friggir remained quiet, her eyes watching the others eagerly. Her gaze stopped on Eadgyd and she stared at the Beorning in awe, but looked away as soon as Eadgyd returned the look.

“You’re Lottie, right?” Eadgyd asked.

Lottie nodded, her eyes wide.

“I’m Eadgyd,” she said, smiling at Lottie. “Pleased to meet you.”

Lottie got up and made a small curtsey. “Pleased to meet you too,” she murmured. “I like your hair.”

Eadgar couldn’t see her face from this angle, but he knew that Eadgyd was smiling. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m lucky to have Eadgar for a brother, or I’d never be able to get a braid that looks this nice.”

Lottie looked from him to Eadgyd’s braid, clearly wanting to ask something but too shy to say it.

“Would you like me to braid your hair, Lottie?” Eadgar asked. “I’m just about done with Eadgyd’s.”

“Oh thank you—yes, that would be wonderful!” she said.

“Excellent,” Eadgar said as he tied off Eadgyd’s braid. “Do you want it like Eadgyd’s or something else? I can do any kind of braid you like.”

“I want it like Eadgyd’s,” Lottie said excitedly.

“Perfect—that’s one of my favorite braids to do,” Eadgar said.

Lottie moved her chair beside Eadgar, practically vibrating with excitement as he began to braid her hair. As he did so, he and Eadgyd made conversation with the rest of the company, sharing stories and laughter. Eadgar couldn’t remember the first time he’d felt this much at ease around a group of near-strangers. Since the battle, he and Eadgyd had gotten strange looks from other travelers, especially when Eadgyd bared her left arm or when Eadgar used his cane. It was nice to pass time with others who viewed them through the lens of companionship and not pity.

For the first time in years, Eadgar felt confident that he’d found some new friends.

**Author's Note:**

> A note: it's probably not likely that Eadgar would just know of Dyri's father (he's from a different neck of the woods, after all), but the Battle of Five Armies is one of Eadgar's hyperfixations (he's mad that he didn't get to fight in it), so he's learned everything about it that he can, hence him recognizing Galti's name.
> 
> Also, for the curious: the braid that Eadgar does for Eadgyd and Lottie is a fishtail braid.
> 
> Hopefully I'll update this more regularly. I have at least two chapters that are ready to roll and a few more that are in progress, so it's just a matter of remembering to squeeze this in amidst the Tolkientober stuff.
> 
> Please comment if you enjoyed this!
> 
> Tumblr: dwarrowdams  
> Twitter: @_tenderqueer


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